Entrapped

A nightmare in my mirror

The mirror showed a reflection that was not my own. They'd done this to me, changing everything. I move closer, inspecting; my nose no longer has the slight bump from when my brother hit me with a softball while playing in the yard; my long blonde hair is now short and dark, cut into stylish layers; my eyes, the strange purple colour that always set me apart and made others stare are now a ubiquitous shade of blue; the shape of my eyes has changed as well, they used to be large round saucers, and now they have taken on an oblong shape; my cheekbones are higher, more visible and my chin now has a soft point versus the flat heart shape I had before. I reach up and touch my face in awe, my fingernails are painted and filed to a perfect pink, and there are no more callouses; they now exhibit the hands of a woman who has never had to work for a living. Instead, I appear delicate and breakable. The clothing they've selected hides my muscular body and the strength in my legs and arms are perfectly covered, creating an essence of ladylike sensibility. My breasts appear to be a cup size larger. I cup them with my hands and feel their full perkiness; that is a nice change.

“Well, what do you think? “He asks, cautiously approaching me as if I'm a dangerous animal in a cage; perhaps I am.

“I don't understand,” I reply. “How did you do this.” I'm confused. My memory is foggy. I remember coming here, coming to him. I'd hurt someone, someone I loved very much. My body was changing, it was getting more robust, and I could no longer control it. People were taking notice of me, the wrong people. They were following, watching and waiting. “How long have I been here?” I ask him.

“It has been a few months; the mirror had to do its part. It takes time for it to perform such a drastic change. But you have your wish; I held my end of the bargain, and you are no longer you. No one will recognize you. You may start over. I have no more use for you now, and neither do those who chase you. You are free to live. I’ve taken the liberty of creating a new identity for you. I’ve rented you a house and filled your new account with enough money to support you for some time. You’ll need to find a job and move on. You will not see me, those who chase you, or your family again. It would be best if you committed to this. Your new name is Heather. If you approve, I believe it's time for you to leave Heather. Good luck, and thank you for your devoted work. I hope you have a happy life” with that, he turned his back on his most valued employee, his enforcer and let her go. He would miss her, but she was no good to him anymore. She had royally screwed everything up. Too many people were looking for her, and it was only a matter of time before they followed her back to him. This was both a favour to her for her hard work and also a gift to protect himself. It wouldn't be long now before Heather took her over completely, erasing her mind and turning her into the fragile bird that she now resembled. The virile, inviolable, knockout woman he knew was gone.

I carefully collect my things. I thank the security officer at the front desk as he opens the gate for me to exit. I walk outside and survey the parking lot. Unsure, I hit the unlock button on the key fob I had just been given, following the sound of my new vehicle. A white Cadillac XT5 honked; Heather is a flashy and practical bitch. I paused; Heather was nothing like Ally. I didn’t know how I would live a life of peace, freedom and amusement. But Id earned this, right? Going back is not an option. So I climbed into the leather interior and hit the start engine button. I adjust my seat and the mirrors, looking again at the strange face staring back at me. For a moment, she feels familiar; that’s me, I think, and I believe it. I shake off the strange sensation and shift my car into reverse. I begin to drive, and without checking the address, I instinctively turn onto the street, heading somewhere I’ve never been. As I go, I see the yoga studio visit every morning religiously and the juice bar that I order from after my Sun salutations. I pause; no, that’s not true, I’ve never done yoga, and I’m definitely a coffee girl. No way pressed juice would be on my morning menu. Where did that memory come from?

I pull into the garage of a stylish townhouse in a very cosmopolitan area. I sigh with relief; it feels so good to be home. Wait, no; this isn’t my home. I live in an industrial studio apartment with high open ceilings showing all the ductwork and a giant open living space. This is not my home. I drop the keys into my Kate spade belt bag and open the interior door. I lean over, open the wine fridge and pick my favourite oaky Chardonnay. I walk across the kitchen and select a large bowl, a thin-lipped wine glass with a shorter stem to enhance the full-bodied wine. What the fuck? I don’t even own glasses, and I don’t drink wine. I look at my reflection in a large brass Fleur De Lis mirror resting on a table in the foyer. I look closely, and the image staring back at me smiles; I look back stone-faced. I pull my gold iPhone from my pocket and, with my perfectly manicured nails, dial his number from memory.

“Hello,” he greets

“What the fuck did you do?” I demand

“Ally, my dear, I do not know what you are talking about but do watch the language; it’s very unbecoming of a lady of your class.”

“There is something wrong. This feels wrong. I’m not me; it’s like there are two of us. My memories are both mine and Heather’s as if she is a real person.” I’m angry and honestly scared.

“Calm down, Ally, my warrior; you knew I couldn’t let you remember. You wanted a fresh start, and I have given you one. You will become Heather, as we discussed, and Ally will be no more.” He says the last part, without care like losing myself, was a completely acceptable solution.

“How dare you!” I spit back as I glance in the mirror again. This time I am startled to see my purple eyes staring back.

“What is happening?” I ask now with a hint of fear in my voice.

“The mirror is turning you into Heather, as we discussed and you agreed to. Of course, as you become Heather, Ally will need to go somewhere. I selected Heather for you; the mirror took her essence, I disposed of the body, and placed her inside you.”

“You did what!? Heather is a real person. Was she a real person? You killed her?” I rasp

“No, my love, I ended her physical body, and the mirror took her likeness. Your body has now accepted Heather and is transitioning to removing Ally.” He states this so casually and matter of fact that I am unsure how to respond. “I’m Heather,” I say “yes, you are,” he replies, and I can hear his smirk. “No, I mean, I’m not. I don’t. I feel Ally slipping away. Who am I?” I start to panic, and anguish creeps through my body.

“Be calm, my enchantress; it won’t be long now. Ally will still exist. She will simply be in the mirror world. She’ll be your reflection but will no longer be able to interact with this world. While Heather will become more natural, you won’t even miss yourself. Truly, Heather is so much nicer than you. She lives a good life; embrace it. The best part is, should I need you again,

The mirror will pull Heather back and release you. Out of retirement, one might say.”

Ally paused, horrified. She’d agreed to be a prisoner. She would be locked away, trapped in the mirror world. Would she be aware? Heather took a sip of the chardonnay and replied, “well, thank you, I’m so happy to be back home.”

“You are most welcome, peach. Now you won’t be calling this number again, will you?” He asked. Confused, Heather replied, “Did I call you? I’m sorry, I must have misdialed. What did you say your name was again?”. The line went dead. I shrugged and reapplied my lipstick in the mirror, humming a Taylor Swift song.

Ally screamed. She kept screaming, cursing and eventually begging, but no one could hear. She watched as the prissy bitch that now had almost complete control of their body pranced around her townhouse doing mundane and often mind-boggling tasks. Why the fuck do we need a foot mask? I couldn’t stand the Real House Wives, a show where affluent women get into catfights and spend copious sums of money, so I found a place in the back of our mind that was quiet, most of me in the mirror world, but a small part holding on to the body. Being in the mirror became a reprieve; Heather was so vexing. She was everything Ally was not, their interests were polar opposites, and her life was excruciating. Eventually, Ally stayed in their reflection, staring at what had become of her. It was a lonesome and hopeless existence. Time dragged on, with Ally disturbingly aware of every single moment. It was unbearable; how could she have trusted him? She knew how he handled those no longer useful to him; it was her job to take care of those inconveniences. Intolerably she began to cultivate a contrite heart in retrospect. She was remorseful of how she used her gifts. Her ancestors would be disgusted. She’d lived her life selfishly and in survival mode. Her powers were much more significant than anyone who knew the prophecy could have surmised. She was a Keres, drawn to bloodshed and savagery. It was her nature, and she wanted to slash Heather’s throat and slam her pretty little head against a wall until all the frivolous thoughts were gone. At night she would watch her sleep from the vanity mirror, thinking of ways to torture her. She would sit in the small part in the back of her mind that she continued to inhabit and pull on her abilities to send pieces of herself back into Heather’s mind, waiting.

She should never have trusted Moros, and she would seek her revenge. She should have listened to her sisters. They were strongest together; they had purpose and tenacity. She thought she would find her path and leave to protect them from her foretelling, but instead, she left them all weak.

She watched as Heather thrashed about in her sleep. The thoughts she pushed through her mind gave her hellish nightmares and a waking feeling of madness. It was absolutely maddening for both of them—a cruelty of his design, a twisting torment of terror. As much as Ally loathed Heather, she felt a slight sense of kinship with her. They were both victims of his games.

In the solitude, she watched as decades passed. Ally began to lose herself. She would disassociate, meditating and imagining herself free. One day the mirror was overtaken with nothingness. Ally’s consciousness ceased as Heather aged, and her mind became muddled. Their existence was concluding.

Fluorescent light blinded her. A sterile chemical stench overtook her senses. Every sound felt insurmountable. She leaned over and vomited. A gloved hand pulled back her hair as she groaned. “Where am I” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Welcome back, my priestess.”